I Know You Can't Sleep
by terrified
Summary: A one-shot. Sherlock visits Molly at a difficult time, resulting in an unexpected reunion for them both.


_**A/N: **I wrote this because Vertical Horizon's "Evermore" is flooding my soul. I will be a zombie at work tomorrow, but Sherlolly is always worth it. _

* * *

**I Know You Can't Sleep**

Molly could not tell if she was pained or relieved that Tom was now out of her life. He had just shown up to her flat, probably for the last time, to collect what remained of his belongings. Their exchanges were civil, awkwardly kind but more distant than the North from the South.

How they had separated still remained a blur. Tom had grown increasingly upset with her, but she could not blame him. Her behaviour had indeed become increasingly upsetting, particularly when the infamous detective returned from the dead. Molly had always been open about her affections for the man. Frankly, there was no one who did not know the affection she had harboured for Sherlock.

However, in the two years that Sherlock had been gone and on the assumption that she was well and truly over him, Molly had regaled everything to her boyfriend,Tom. He knew everything about her infatuation with Sherlock. So it was natural, really, that upon Sherlock's return, the cracks began to show. Then the rift, the wide, opening chasm, and finally the separation. There was jealousy, suspicion, bitterness and blame.

Molly was to blame. She could not deny it. As she lay in bed, solitary once more, she stared up at her ceiling, wondering what she was doing with her life. Tom had been a good man, a good love and he had given her some semblance of happiness. However, it was but semblance. Was it worth throwing away for the impossible? Yes, the very depth of her happiness was mirrored by the infinite impossibility that was Sherlock. He was impossible. He had no heart. At least not one for her.

Sleepless nights like the one tonight were her new lover. Molly would toss and turn. She would watch telly or read. She would drink herbal tea, warm milk, wine, vodka, anything that would help pass the time and cause a lull. Nothing really worked. Molly was always too conscious, conscious enough for real life to bite at her constantly.

It was already one a.m and Molly continued to fidget in bed, blinking from her insomnia. Suddenly, she heard her phone vibrate on her side table. It had startled her, so she reached for it quite clumsily, while trying to turn the bedside lamp on. As she held the mobile phone in her hand, it vibrated endlessly as message after message came streaming in.

_I know you can't sleep. - SH_

_More specifically, I know why you can't sleep. - SH_

_You must be reading this, am I right? - SH_

_Well, I'm never wrong. - SH_

_The point is, you can't pretend you're not reading this right now. - SH_

_You've been awake since trying to sleep at 11 and the sound of your phone must have jolted you out of bed. - SH_

_I do believe you've knocked your stack of neuroscience journals off your bedside table. - SH_

Molly quickly leaned over bed to inspect her bedroom floor.

"By golly, he's right…" she muttered to herself.

_So, are you going to let me in or not? - SH_

"Why should—…"

_You're probably wondering why you should. Well, you should. - SH_

"You loathsome fool…" Molly whispered fiercely. She was either going to crush her phone in her fingers or fling it out of the window. Instead, she flung it on her bed covers and buried her head in her hands in utter frustration.

"I'll tell you why you should, Molly," came his voice. Molly looked up with a start. There he was, Sherlock Holmes, standing at her bedroom door with his tall frame casting a formidable shadow on her bed.

"You haven't picked my lock in _two_ years…" Molly said with a shake of her head. The smile on her face was bitter.  
"I thought you said it was rude," the detective said, walking in slowly, "You told me never to do it again."  
"I did, didn't I?" Molly said, falling back into bed with a sigh.

Silence ensued but the detective walked steadily towards the bed. He removed his shoes, his coat, and climbed onto the other side of the bed. Molly turned to face him, too tired and puzzled to get up. Her delicate brown locks flowed across her pillow, shining like rays around her face. When Molly turned to look at the face that now hovered above hers, she could not help but smile. To love him was to love the impossible, but love him she did.

"So? Are you going to tell me or not?" she asked him softly.  
"Tell you what?" he asked, unable to resist reaching out to touch her soft hair.  
"Why I should let you in? Though you've already made yourself _quite_comfortable…" Molly said with a gentle laugh.

He smiled. A real smile that betrayed the depth of emotion only reserved for the woman before him. His fingers continue to weave between her soft hair as he quietly relished how they felt against his fingertips.

"I know you can't sleep," he said quietly, repeating his message to her.  
"And so?" Molly continued to stare at him, her wide, sleepless eyes staring up into his.  
"I may have a solution…" he answered.  
"What do you suggest?" She smiled up at him, amused.  
"That we attempt sleep together," he said, returning the smile as he shifted to lie down beside her.

Molly laughed at his response but soon shut her eyes in an almost painful nostalgia when she felt his arms creep around her, pulling her tightly towards him. The skin of his lips met with the skin of her neck as he breathed in their proximity. Molly's hands clutched at the arms around her, wrapping them tighter towards herself as she buried herself into him. His tall frame curved protectively around hers just as she arched against him with a grateful sigh.

"Is your solution foolproof?" she whispered, her fingers tracing the veins of the hands that held her.  
"Absolutely," he murmured, planting a soft kiss on her hair.  
"How would you know?" she asked, unable to contain a smile.

Sherlock smiled against her hair as he tightened his grip around her. Once more, he kissed her hair and then again on her neck.

"Because we'd done it before." he answered, turning her to face him.

When they kissed, the two years between them vanished as they sought rest, disappearing into the dark, and into each other.


End file.
